


Fealty

by Missy



Category: The Favourite (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Gen, Ghosts, Humor, Keeping Your Own Hell Clean, Murder, Poisoning, Snark, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-15 23:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21261584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Abigail knows exactly how many drops of poison to place in Sarah’s raspberry cordial.





	Fealty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosedamask](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosedamask/gifts).

Abigail knows exactly how many drops to place in Sarah’s raspberry cordial. Exactly how many days it will take her to die of a poison that will render her insensible. And when the time comes, Abigail knows how to cry, pushing fat tears beyond her spiked lashes, allowing Anne to stroke her hand (she will soon, to her dismay, be forced to stroke further parts of the queen’s anatomy, but that will come later).

Sarah is shrived and buried, but Abigail is not suspected.

Abigail enjoys the year. A full brace of parties and alcohol and dances, theater and masques. Idle gossip.

She does not expect anything unusual to happen on the anniversary of Sarah’s death.

In this, her calculations failed her gravely.

***

“You do know that the Queen hates boiled eggs?”

Abigail’s mouth twists. She crosses out the list before her and glances over her shoulder. Sarah is there as always – pale in her spirit form, but beautiful and autocratic as ever. “Your advice is noted,” Abigail says.

“More than note it. You’ll need to do much to keep the queen happy.”

The implied is that she wasn’t doing enough, which is enough to infuriate Abigail. “I spend hours rubbing that woman’s feet, listening to her wail on about her children. And you say I’m not doing enough.”

“Oh. I wouldn’t dream of saying so,” says Sarah. Abigail glares at her as she faded into the woodwork.

When boiled eggs show up on Anne’s plate that night, she throws the platter against the wall.

*** 

Abigail rubs the queen’s fingertips, trying to bring color back to them, a cause she understands is lost but cannot stop herself from doing, if only to expend the nervous energy inside of her.

Sarah sits across the bed from her, he hand upon Anne’s foot.

“She’ll be with me now,” says Sarah. It sounds like a prospect that she isn’t relishing. 

Abigail is about to become a very poor woman. She’s about to move out into a cold, uncaring world which will not give her sweetmeats and favors.

She’s about to be free.

She closes her eyes and laughs.


End file.
